An Exercise in Restraint
by smilingsoprano
Summary: A character-study version of the times Peter has handcuffed Neal. A 5 plus 1 fic going up in installments. Still gen for the moment, but inevitably Peter/Neal later. K plus for now.


**Title: **An Exercise in Restraint

**Author: **smilingsoprano

**Rating: **K+ . . . for now. Later chapters will likely bump the rating up.

**Pairings: **In this chapter? None. But later chapters will most definitely be Peter/Neal.

**Disclaimer: **None of this belongs to me. If I owned White Collar, there would be no plot, only character development, and no one wants that.

**Summary: **A 5(+1) fic-five times Peter handcuffed Neal (and the one time things changed) if you want the clunky long description. Silly, probably smutty later on, mostly character study. And slash.

**A/N: **Yeah, I know, Peter/Neal and handcuffs is kind of picking the low-hanging fruit. But it was just so tempting I couldn't resist. Each chapter will be an instance. The title is how the narrating character (Peter in all but the last) is feeling at that moment. Not all instances are written yet, however, so the whole "finishing it" thing is still in flux. I'm still trying to get a handle on writing Peter and Neal, so any suggestions are much appreciated. Reviews are love and shall be loved in return. They also will significantly help with my motivation to complete the darn thing. *panders shamelessly*

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**1. Victorious**

The first time Special Agent Peter Burke heard the click of handcuffs around Neal Caffrey's wrists, it was the sweetest sound he could possibly imagine. It was the culmination of four exhausting years; hundreds of hours of surveillance and paperwork and poring over the minutest details of every painting, government document, statue, and form of currency he could think of; altogether too many sleepless nights and dinners missed; and unconscionable amounts of worry and stress.

Out of some perverse respect for the careful, controlled game that had unfolded between them, Peter didn't kick down the door upon arrival. He knocked politely. When no one answered—that was when he kicked it in. It slammed against the wall, and Peter savored the sound. He made his way inside carefully and deliberately. Caffrey was surrounded, every escape route blocked. The only things they had to worry about were hiding places. They had him.

Luckily for Peter's vanity, he was the one who found Caffrey—the man he had been chasing, studying, obsessing over for four years—wedged in the ceiling space, using a cache of tools to cut through to the floor above.

"Careful," Peter cautioned, with not a little glee in his voice. "I don't think the agent positioned above you would much appreciate falling through the floor. Now, why don't you come down so we can have our little chat?"

"Special Agent Burke. Do you have more questions for me? I thought I had answered in full last time." Assured as always, verging on cocky, even wedged in the crawlspace above his flat. Before, it had been justified. He had been untouchable. Now things were different, and yet he kept his pleasant, slightly bemused expression firmly in place as he wriggled free and dropped to the floor, brushing dust from his dress shirt with perfect aplomb. Peter still found himself taken aback by the overpowering charm, the easy smile and the brilliant blue eyes. Criminals, in his opinion, should never look like movie stars. It made them that much more dangerous.

Peter couldn't keep an almost feral grin from his face. "Neal Caffrey, you are under arrest on suspicion of bond forgery. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The rest of the litany poured out of him, the words he had waited far too long to say to this particular criminal. As he spoke, he pulled his handcuffs from his belt and fastened them around Caffrey's wrists. The muted clicks echoed in his ears, and he nearly laughed. He felt giddy with relief.

As he led Caffrey to the car, the thief turned to look at him, his handsome face finally serious. "How'd you find me?" he asked softly.

Peter debated not answering, but honesty won out. "I know you," he replied.

That seemed to be enough. Caffrey fell silent again, allowing himself to be led forward. When they reached the car, he paused, once again meeting Peter's gaze. A small, wry smile quirked one corner of his mouth upwards.

"_Just_ bond forgery, Peter? I must admit, I'm a little disappointed."

Peter cursed him all the way home.


End file.
